


Breaking Curses the Old Fashioned Way

by hanyou_elf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s cursed with the Sleeping Beauty curse. And in order to protect him, he’s put into protected hiding until a cure can be found. And Draco’s got to pay for the war somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Curses the Old Fashioned Way

**Author's Note:**

> Author: hanyou_sensei  
> Prompter: emi_chirescue  
> Prompt Number: 80  
> Title: Breaking Curses the Old Fashioned Way  
> Pairing: Harry/Draco  
> Summary: Harry’s cursed with the Sleeping Beauty curse. And in order to protect him, he’s put into protected hiding until a cure can be found. And Draco’s got to pay for the war somehow.  
> Rating: R for sexual content  
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Warnings: Fluff from a consistent angster? Masturbation. Kissing.  
> Epilogue Compliant?: …uh… ewe.  
> Word Count: ~4800  
> Author’s Notes: i’m really pretty sure that this isn’t what the prompter wanted when s/he offered the prompt. But, i couldn’t stop this from happening. They wanted this, and i was helpless to do anything other than obey. Given that, i do so hope you’ll enjoy the fic and what they decided to give me. Fair warning, this is far beyond anything that i’ve written before, far less angstier.
> 
> Thanks so very, very much to kettle for putting those slutty commas back where they belong. You’re the best darling!

Lying in a sea of silks, Harry bloody Potter remained unconscious. Despite their best efforts, he was just there, the latest victim of the bloody Sleeping Beauty curse. It was ridiculous. How did a wizard like Harry Potter, Mr. I-Slay-Dark-Lords, allow himself to get hit by the bloody curse?  
  
And here Draco was, in this small tower of a castle in the middle of what had been Snape’s estate, stuck. Bound to the stone and the proximity by the Ministry, he was stuck, watching the dramatic princess sleep away the curse.  
  
He sighed in frustration as he brushed at his hair with his fingers. He was stuck in this tower, with little distraction and entrusted to make sure that the treasure of the Wizarding World was protected against any other evil doers that might try to coerce something from the brunet in his vulnerable state. He had to make sure that no hair, no blood, and no tokens were taken of Potter’s person while he was unconscious and completely incapacitated by the curse.  
  
What a wilting flower.  
  
“Bloody hell,” he sighed as he threw himself into the nearest chair. He allowed his posture to slide until he was slouched, the back of his head supported by the back of the chair, his butt hung off the seat and his knees spread wide. He grunted in frustration and turned his attention to Potter again. “Bloody drama queen,” he grunted into the room.  
  
He waited, let the words echo emptily around the round room.  
  
He stood and made his way to Potter, towered over him as he lay there, alone and unconscious beneath a sheet of shocking red silk, atop a bed of raven black fabric. He looked like he was simply sleeping. His hair was a messy scrawl of brunet hair, curls and waves in every conceivable way, his face lax in forced sleep. His hands were folded over his flat stomach, the only imperfection in what was an otherwise smoothed sheet. With the exception of his shorts, Potter was naked beneath the crimson sheets, allowing for easier cleansing and upkeep of the sleeping man.  
  
“What are you waiting for?” he asked softly. “You’re supposed to wake just when everyone’s given up hope of you ever doing so. That’s how you work. At the end of hope, you burst onto the scene and make things right with glitter and rainbows.”  
  
He poked Potter’s shoulder, hoping for a reaction. This was beyond melodramatic, even for Potter.  
  
“Merlin, this is going to be torture,” he groaned as he took a seat again, watching Potter sleep.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
He sighed as he stood at the side of the bed and cast the cleaning charms that would keep Potter from smelling. If he days were long the nights were even longer.  
  
The Ministry liked to make sure that their plans were followed as best as they could. They were a group of conniving and vindictive witches and wizards. Draco couldn’t leave Snape’s castle, could barely stand to leave the turret that housed the unconscious Potter. It was physically painful for him to be too separated from the brunet. It was cruel and unusual punishment that he was sure the remainder of the Golden Trio would protest vehemently.  
  
And yet it was because he was Draco Malfoy, pureblood wizard and Slytherin that they hadn’t bothered to care. The hypocrisy was stifling.  
  
He didn’t even have the benefit of distraction. Most of his friends had fled the country when the Dark Lord had fallen. He didn’t blame them, if it hadn’t been for his mother, he would have as well. But he couldn’t leave her behind without someone to protect her. Especially when his father had disappeared like the coward that he was. Years of worshiping the man and he’d shown his true colors when his wife and son needed him the most. It was disgusting and Draco was ashamed of the older Malfoy.  
  
Two months. Two long months in the turret of his godfather’s castle watching Potter sleep, watching him wither away very slowly. Every day a Mediwitch came to make sure that Potter was getting nutrients through a potion and to ensure his continued survival. She didn’t speak to him, and after the first week, Draco quit trying to speak to her. She  _Apparated_  in, was there for ten minutes at the most, and then  _Apparated_  out again.  
  
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t reiterated just how lonely it was to be watching over Potter.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco watched the lightning throw spidery paths of electric energy across the low black clouds. He could remember sitting at his mother’s knee, watching the play of light and listening to the roar of sound that followed, impressed by the sheer power. It was a show of strength and glory befitting the strongest, and Draco loved every minute of it.  
  
Alone with only Potter’s corpse, for lack of a better word, the storms proved to be a much different experience. He watched the lightning arc across the sky in brilliant patterns of white, yellow and blue, blinding reminders left behind his eyelids. What had once been an echoing sound, incidental to the lightning was now a sound of fear, rough and intimidating as it roared around the turret.  
  
Draco sat himself beside the bed and wrapped his arms around his knees. He had been losing weight in the months he’d spent watching over Potter and it was easier to bury his face in his knees, to block out the shocking flash of lights. There was nothing that could shut out the echoing roar of thunder or the persistent buzz of rain.  
  
He clenched his eyes shut and tried desperately to block the sound out. It was suffocating, being surrounded by so much noise. There was nothing around him, nothing to take the intimidation from the storm that raged around the turret. Alone with the storm, Draco tried to keep his thoughts in check, away from the nights spent in the Dark Lord’s service.  
  
 _Professor Dumbledore all alone atop the Astronomy tower, weak and panting and begging for Draco’s life because he believed in something he saw in Draco._  
  
Mother alone in her bedroom, hunched before her vanity and trying to desperately cover the bruise his father had given her in a fit of rage at Draco’s incompetence.  
  
Father with his cane, brandishing it like a weapon at Draco while he beat respect and honour for the Dark Lord into him, at least enough that he could fake it over his near paralysing fear.  
  
He tightened his arms around himself and forced down the terrified groan of fear as he shook the thoughts away. “Wake up, Potter,” he pleaded softly.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
“I hated you,” Draco grunted as he rolled Potter onto his side, massaging the skin of his back and shoulders. He murmured the spell that would keep Potter immobile on his side and moved his hands to Potter’s thighs, massaging the cool skin. “I hated everything you represented.” He lifted Potter’s left leg and pushed the pillow the Mediwitch had brought with her between his knees.  
  
Potter’s immobility would prove to be bothersome, if he hadn’t had somebody to move him, massage his body, and shift his limbs to keep him from getting sores.  
  
“I hate this,” he admitted softly. “I hate your friends for not being able to do what they should and waking you up.”  
  
It had been a year, a  _year_  spent watching Potter sleep, watching him breathe peacefully as he aged slowly. Alone. Nobody had even bothered to visit Potter aside from the Mediwitch, and even that had ended after six months.  
  
“But I don’t really hate you right now.”  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco, frustrated and exhausted, sat on the side of the bed, watching as Potter slept the cursed sleep he’d been stuck in for the past eighteen long, long months. Potter’s hair was finally showing growth, and his face was shadowed with beginnings of a beard and moustache. Potter was growing, aging while he slept but slowly. Draco shaved him once every other week and it kept the wizard mostly smooth shaven. The same with his hair, but Draco hadn’t bothered with making sure that was well kept. The longer hair was starting to actually look good on him.  
  
And Draco knew he’d been alone with Potter for too long if he had started to find him attractive. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees as he sighed. He was tired of the small mattress that he had. Tired of sleeping alone. He didn’t want to just listen to Potter breathing anymore.  
  
It was frustrating watching him sleep. Frustrating knowing that he was going to be like this for what felt like an eternity. He would never be free from Potter, bound for an eternity to the sleeping wizard. He felt cheated. He hadn’t done anything that should have warranted an indefinite bonding to the one wizard that he’d loathed more than anything else.  
  
Huffing in irritation, Draco stood and dragged his long fingers through unfortunately thinning hair. He wasn’t getting anywhere near balding, but the thick locks that he’d tamed to perfection were thinned out. It was sad, because he’d been proud of the notable Malfoy hair that looked so good on him. He licked his lips and decided he wasn’t going to sleep alone. He didn’t see anyone anymore. The least he could do for himself was to make sure that when he slept, he didn’t sleep alone anymore.  
  
He pushed Potter to the edge of the mattress and arranged him in what was hopefully a comfortable position. He straightened the sheets around him, refusing to admit that the crimson colored silk looked good on his pale skin. Satisfied, he grabbed his blankets and pillow and piled them on the bed beside Potter.  
  
Stretching out beside the brunet beneath the cool silken sheets, he piled his pillows comfortably and settled in to sleep beside him. He draped the blanket over them both and got comfortable. It was different lying in bed with Potter. He hadn’t had positive physical contact in long years.  
  
Cuddled up on the bed beneath his blanket, with the warmth of Potter on his right, he wasn’t surprised when sleep claimed him quickly.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Sleeping in the same bed with Harry was something he’d come to enjoy. He didn’t feel like he’d been abandoned in the castle of his godfather, ignored and forgotten with the Wizarding World’s savior beside him.  
  
It was also incredibly distracting, especially since the supposedly paralysed wizard was starting to move around a little.  
  
It started a month ago in his face. It must have been his dreams that incited a reaction in him. Dreams that made him grimace or twitch. His eyes moved behind paper thin eyelids, tracking whatever it was that haunted his dreams. But now his hands moved, his fingers flinched, slid over the soft fabric easily. It wasn’t much, but it was a reaction.  
  
Was Harry’s magic growing within the confines of the spell? He knew that the brunet was a powerful wizard in his own right, dominating and suffocating when he displayed his power beneath the weight of his temper. It wasn’t a random thought to believe that Potter’s magic would find a way to overcome the spell.  
  
He kept hoping he would wake up one morning and Harry’s green eyes would be blinking drowsily at him. Then this would be over and he could finally leave. But it hadn’t happened yet and Draco didn’t hold much hope for it happening anytime soon.  
  
He woke up each morning disappointed.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco woke up one morning and found something wrong with sleeping beside a warm body. It wasn’t a surprise: warm bodies lying together usually prompted something like a response. He’d been lucky that he hadn’t woken up with an erection before this because he’d been sleeping beside Harry for six months.  
  
He woke up that morning, pressed against Harry’s thinner body, his face tucked up under Harry’s chin, pressed against the long column of his neck. It was comfortable, even though Harry had been losing weight and the musculature he’d once had. But he was still attractive enough.  
  
Draco was pressed against Harry’s hip, his erection digging into the cool skin, and he moaned at the implication. It had been a long time since he’d had an erection; he certainly hadn’t had any real inspiration. It was annoying because his dreams had been about flying with Harry. He had an erection because of Harry bloody Potter.  
  
He rolled away from the cursed form and slid a hand into his shorts, completely unwilling to let himself think about what he was doing, beyond what he wanted. He gripped his erection tightly, fingered the long length as he bit his bottom lip in anticipation. It wasn’t going to take him long, he could already feel himself trembling with pleasure he hadn’t enjoyed in a long time. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t jerked off in so long.  
  
Pleasure exploded through him as he slid his hand up and down the length, traced the grooves and veins, and tickled the flared head. Thick liquid puddled beneath his fingers and he thrust his hips up into the teasing touch. He moved his fingers faster, pushed himself to the very edge and moaned softly. He exploded over his hand rather quickly, letting his shorts absorb most of the evidence of his self-gratification.  
  
“Fuck,” he panted into the otherwise still air.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco couldn’t move. He didn’t want to move because he knew that it would send throbbing pains through his body. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and his mouth was dry. He’d tried to drink water, but it had come up again. His muscles felt like they were steamed.  
  
He lay beside Harry and craving human interaction, something that existed outside of himself he grabbed the cool hand and laced his fingers with Harry’s. He coughed and clenched his eyes shut as pain throbbed through him.  
  
He was lapsing into unconsciousness again when Harry’s fingers flexed around his.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco slid his hand through Harry’s hair, guiding water through it. He could have used the cleaning charm, but he didn’t want to. He was almost on his second year with Harry and he wanted to celebrate it a little. He slid his hand through the dark locks, lengthened with time and the vitamins that he was consistently filled with.  
  
“You’re a drama queen,” he murmured. His voice was hoarse with disuse. He hadn’t used it in so long. “You’re a right prick. I wish you’d wake up,” he murmured. “I wish you would bloody show off.”  
  
Harry’s eyes flickered behind his eyebrows and his lips moved while Draco watched. It was almost normal anymore. Harry’s hands spasmed against the towels beneath his body and while it was more encouraging to see, it was becoming par for the course. Finished with his hair, Draco slid a towel beneath the wet locks and laid his head down on a pillow.  
  
Harry’s body was the most interesting part of the whole thing. He enjoyed cleaning the long limbs, enjoyed tracing the lean lines and proportions. Harry was never very dirty and that helped in his task. But it still wasn’t something that he wanted.  
  
“I wish I could know you better,” he confessed as he dragged a rag down Harry’s chest.  
  
It was something intimate, something that he should have been doing with a lover, not with the unconscious body of his once foe. And that was something that was starting to bother him. He’d been careful about not masturbating too much beside Harry, but he knew that it wasn’t going to last long. The bathroom was uncomfortable. Harry’s bed was warm and soft and there was the plus of having Harry’s warm body beside him.  
  
But recently, he was looking at Harry as more than just a task. There was something there that was blooming. Something that he wasn’t prepared to face just yet.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco slept more and more often not just beside Harry. Let himself get lost in the warm body when they slept and knew that it wouldn’t be long before he just started the night snuggled up close to the unconscious form. He still started out across the bed, maintaining the façade of normalcy, but woke up every morning pressed into Harry’s body.  
  
He didn’t get a reaction out of him, not often. But once, Draco woke up to Harry’s hand on his thigh. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Harry reacting to Draco’s body or if it was because Draco had burrowed his body in under Harry’s arm.  
  
When he’d woke up, burrowed beneath Harry with that long hand on his thigh, Draco hadn’t been able to control himself, not that he’d really wanted to. He rolled onto his back, pressed a hand against Harry’s thigh and stroked himself to quick completion. The silk of his shorts was smooth and cool and added excitement to the quick orgasm.  
  
He rolled back onto his side and snuggled his relaxed body into Harry again before he pressed his lips to the cool skin of his naked shoulder. There was a rush of pleasure through him at the touch of his lips against Harry’s skin. A relaxing through his body and he pressed tighter into Harry’s body. It was unusual to feel that, a rush of excitement and pleasure that he hadn’t counted on.  
  
He had to be careful. The touch of cool skin against his own body, the rush of excitement in the touch of his lips against Harry’s body could be dangerously addictive. And Draco knew he would pursue it into dangerous ends.  
  
He couldn’t touch Harry like that. It would be violating the trust the Ministry had given him, would be violating Harry in the worst possible way. Ways that had been threatened and attempted with him.  
  
He clenched his eyes shut and relaxed against Harry. He wouldn’t hurt the other man.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
There was something wrong with Harry. He barely moved anymore, when he’d spent months twitching and reacting to stimuli. But he’d lost too much weight and nothing Draco did could reverse that. He would die: his shrinking body swathed in silken sheets, hidden from reality in the dark of the tower.  
  
Draco leaned against the edge of the bed, his arms crossed on the bed, his chin resting against his arms. It was hard, to be so close to this man that he was unnervingly attracted to. He hadn’t ever wanted to admit to being attracted to Harry. He had never wanted to admit to an attraction to another person until he had to get married, a marriage that had been arranged by his parents.  
  
Three years and five months with Harry. It had been so long since he’d been outside the tower. Nearly two years since he’d last seen another person. He was struggling with the situation. And he didn’t know how to get in touch with anyone else.  
  
 _‘Don’t die,’_  he pleaded silently.  _‘Don’t leave me alone in this hell.’_  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco was pressed against Harry. He couldn’t save the brunet, couldn’t stop the way he was falling into sickness and soon, death. It wouldn’t be long, it couldn’t be. This was a cruel and callous curse, but surely it wouldn’t leave him to die the slow death of decay. Whoever had cast it could let him have dignity at least in death, couldn’t they?  
  
He pulled the blankets up tight around their bodies and wrapped an arm around a stomach that was nearly concave. Harry’s bones were becoming more and more prominent, his head the shape of his skull. It was sickening, and it was terrifying.  
  
Additionally, the more Harry lost meant the worse Draco felt. He could feel his own body, echoing with pain in his bones. His joints hurt and it made getting out of bed harder.  
  
Draco was ready to sleep again. He leaned up against the pale body and pressed his lips against Harry’s cheek. He was unprepared for the rush of relief that coursed through him. It was intoxicating, the calm and peace that flooded through his body when he realized how much better he felt with his lips against Harry’s body. Tension seemed to ooze out of him, until he pulled away from the soft kiss and was assaulted by the pain and exhaustion and weariness he’d been dealing with.  
  
Frustrated tears welled up behind his eyes and Draco pressed chaste kisses to Harry’s cheek, across the bridge of his nose and his forehead. It was...  
  
He wanted to cry, because each kiss was a reprieve from the reality of his imprisonment. He wanted to press his lips against Harry’s, but didn’t want to push himself onto Harry, especially when he was so completely unable to defend himself.  
  
But the relief felt so good.  
  
He decided that he would hate himself later, in the bathroom when he was showering. But until then, he needed the relief. He wondered if it was the same for Harry, if the kisses gave him relief.  
  
He leaned up and pressed a kiss to the man’s cheek, relished the relief and the encouragement it gave him. He pushed his lips against Harry’s. Reveled in the cool smooth skin of his lips and even more so in the rush of cool relief that exploded through him. He kept his eyes closed and spread his lips just a little. He breathed in the familiar smell of clean skin, spice and Harry.  
  
Draco was not ready to feel the lips beneath his move. To feel the tip of a tongue trace his lips and the soft inhalation of surprise beneath him. He flew from the bed, throwing himself clumsily to the floor in shock and fear and something he couldn’t name. Gray eyes watched the thin form shifting without assistance before his head turned and green eyes blinked blearily in his direction.  
  
“Ha-Harry?” he croaked, his arms wrapped tight around himself. He forced himself to breathe, to try to be normal. Harry was awake and it was Draco’s fault.  
  
Harry fisted his hands in the sheets beneath his body and groaned as he tried to sit up. The strain in his muscles was evident, but Draco didn’t know what to do in order to help the brunet. “What’s… What are we doing?”  
  
He was saved from having to answer because the pop of arriving wizards interrupted him.  _Apparating_  into the small room was Granger in jade robes with long light strawberry hair falling down her back in waves. She was accompanied by a black man that Draco didn’t know in blue robes that framed his body in perfect accentuation of his muscles.  
  
“Harry!” Granger exclaimed in excitement. “Oh Merlin, Harry,” she cried as she fell to her knees beside the bed. Her hands fell onto his arm and clutched him tightly.  
  
“What happened?” he whispered.  
  
“You were attacked by a wizard. You were under what’s been called the Sleeping Beauty curse. You’ve been asleep for four years. But you’re awake!” she cried.  
  
Draco didn’t want to stay and watch this. He didn’t want to admit to what he’d done. And he really didn’t want to face the knowledge that he’d been watched. He’d masturbated and held and admitted weaknesses to Harry, and they’d been under surveillance.  
  
He curled himself in the small bathroom and hid in the tub, unable to face the noise and embarrassment.  
  
It felt like hours before anyone talked to him. And then it was only to tell him that he could leave. They were taking Harry with them.  
  
He was alone. Free. Something he’d wanted since the sentence began. But it felt like they were pulling him apart. He nodded and when he was alone, buried his face in his knees and let himself cry.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
Draco didn’t do much after Harry left. He didn’t know what he was even supposed to do. He was supposed to be with Harry until he woke up, saved when the saviour was saved. He was supposed to be able to move past this, able to be more than this. He was disgusted with himself, unable to move away from the tower he’d lived in for years, the solitude he’d cultivated.  
  
He slept in Harry’s crimson bed. Curled up in the cool silk and tried to ignore the broken feeling that echoed in his chest and stomach.  
  
He couldn’t eat.  
  
He could barely sleep.  
  
He lay in Harry’s bed and wondered what he’d done that put him into the rut he suffered with. It was unfair and he didn’t deserve it.  
  
Air shifted in the stale room, popping echoed around the room with the introduction of another wizard in the room. He refused to turn around and look to see who was invading his private sanctuary. He wanted to be alone. Wanted to be forgotten the way he had been before.  
  
“Draco?” the soft voice of the wizard he’d guarded murmured. It was quiet, respectful of the solitude and silence in the tower.  
  
He clenched his eyes shut and refused to turn around to look, to see if he was hallucinating or if it was a reality, painful and needed. He fisted his hands in the sheets and pleaded silently that he was hallucinating and that it would disappear.  
  
“You saved me with a kiss,” Harry’s voice murmured. “Do I have to save you too?”  
  
The bed shifted beneath him as Harry settled onto the edge of the bed. He clenched his eyes tightly as tears collected beneath his lids. The warmth of Harry’s hand brushed over his shoulder and Draco felt like he would explode in relief. Pleasure and familiarity and an overwhelming sense of  _rightness_  poured through him.  
  
He rolled over onto his back and blinked up at the brunet. Harry was thinner than he had been before he had been cursed, but much healthier than he’d been when he’d woken up. His eyes were brilliant and expressive behind his glasses. His skin was a darker tanned color, healthy. Draco rolled his eyes in frustration and rolled away from the brunet.  
  
“Don’t,” Harry murmured as he wrapped an arm around Draco’s chest. Draco gasped and inhaled, the scent of spice and soap and peace and freedom. Draco couldn’t stop himself from rolling into the warmth of Harry, relaxing into the strength that he represented, tall and proud on the side of the bed that had sheltered him for so long. “Why are you still here?” he asked softly.  
  
Draco shook his head and let the tension in his body evaporate. He heard Harry speaking softly, voice reverent in the echoing quiet in the tower. Sleep claimed him and he finally slept exhausted and relieved next to Harry’s warm body.  
  
-.-.-.-  
  
When he woke up, Harry was still there. His hand was tucked against Draco’s hip and his heat was a welcome relief. He wasn’t a hallucination. Draco covered his face with his hands and sobbed in relief. Harry had come back for him. Draco cried softly as Harry’s warm body encircled him, pulled him tight against the thin chest and held him firmly.  
  
Peace echoed in his chest as he relaxed into Harry’s warmth. It was a weird reminder of the way they’d been together when Harry was asleep. When the brunet was unable to move or react, and it was a relief.  
  
“You saved me with a kiss,” Harry murmured softly. His voice was awed, soft as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying, the truth behind the past they shared. “I was awake, Draco.”  
  
So he knew how weak Draco was. How worthless and completely unneeded. How perverted and evil he was.  
  
The cool press of lips against his cheeks made Draco gasp. He turned on his back, in the circle of Harry’s warm arms and blinked up at the brunet. There was a long minute where they simply looked at each other and didn’t do anything else. And then Harry moved. His lips were soft against Draco’s, his breath warm through his nostrils. It was exciting. And delicious.  
  
Draco’s eyes fell shut as he responded. His mouth opened beneath the kiss and Harry’s tongue slipped in with the invitation. Comfort and peace flooded through him. When they broke apart, Draco licked his lips and smiled up at him.  
  
“Har…” he trailed off with a harsh cough. His voice was rough and soft and broken. He swallowed and licked his lips again. “Harry?”  
  
“Come home with me?” Harry asked gently.  
  
“Heroing again?” Draco murmured.  
  
“Only where it’s deserved,” he answered with a kiss.

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